


All I Want for Christmas is Narf

by Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Prompt Fill, big damn kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker/pseuds/Pinky_andthe_Brainmaker
Summary: Brain hates Christmas and wants to concoct a plan that he swears has nothing to do with the holiday. Pinky has other ideas.
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 123





	All I Want for Christmas is Narf

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt here. https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/786726219689099345/791764454307528724/unknown.png?width=960&height=291
> 
> This fanfiction is lighter and fluffier, and more in-tone with the rest of the series than my previous one. I am looking to expand my horizons.

Acme Labs was hardly an appropriate setting for Christmas. The building in which many laboratory animals’ cries of pain were ignored by steel-hearted scientists would not make it on Santa’s “nice” list. Pinky in particular made no connections regarding the fairy lights strung around the testing facility to the experiments that tested the amount of electric shocks a mouse could endure before dying. Brain knew better. 

Brain was not terribly fond of Christmas, the frivolities of which he never understood, and the myth surrounding Santa Claus, he found asinine. The irony was well-established in the fact that people around the world respected Santa as Brain so wished they would respect him. The principal difference was that Brain existed, yet was routinely ignored where Santa poisoned the mind of children, and children were deceived into believing his existence where there was no evidence.

With much scorn and a tinge of want, Brain stared out one of the few windows to the world beyond. Snow, as pure as Pinky’s innocence and as cold as Brain’s heart, draped over the soil, over the roofs and the cars. He watched as scientists eager to unwrap presents retreated for the night, not a single thought in their heads concerning the laboratory mice they had just left behind.

_ When I’m ruler of the world, _ thought Brain,  _ no animal subjected to horrific experiments will suffer. And Christmas may or may not exist anymore. _

“Narf, Brain!” The shrill squeaks of his lanky companion brought Brain out of his brooding dictatorial fantasy. “You’re always sad on Christmas! Are you a Scrooge, Brain?”

Brain rolled his eyes, a sigh leaving its mark on the window glass. “Call it a mere hunch,” Brain continued to stare out the window, silently cursing every child who got a present this year, “But it could be that I find Christmas to be as pleasing as a tetanus infection.”

“Are you a Scrooge, Brain? Say it! Say the words! Poit!”

Brain tugged at his heavy eyebags, pulling the lower eyelids down far enough to reveal the pink membrane underneath. Pinky could never understand why Christmas was so awful to Brain, and it had nothing to do with Charles Dickens.

Pinky danced along the windowsill with an amount of ballet prowess that would have made Anna Pavlova jealous. Only his verbal tic broke the illusion of grace, and eventually shattered it to pieces as he toppled over, landing to the floor with a faint thud.

The second there was a thud, Brain’s ears perked up and his heart began to race as fast as an Olympic medalist could run for gold as he leaned over the windowsill and shouted towards his fallen friend with intense concern, “Pinky?!”

“Zort!” Pinky guffawed, not any worse for the wear and not a scratch on his snow-white body as he’d just landed on his behind. “I’m okay, Brain! Ha ha!”

Aggrieved and clutching at an aging heart that threatened to explode at any time, Brain let out a deep exhale and muttered, “Oh, Pinky. I wish you would stop with the pratfalls.”

  
Now was Pinky’s turn to react in heart-hammering horror, jumping to his feet with spirited energy, “Chris Pratt fell?! When?!”

“At the Emmys,” Brain lied, knowing that explaining what a pratfall was to Pinky would be pointless at the moment. 

Continuing, he carefully let himself down the windowsill and brushed off any imaginary dust on his shoulders. “He fractured both tibias while sashaying with Angelina Jolie, and is being forced to permanently retire from his acting career.”

Pinky’s expression lost any and all previous glee, ears wilting and his eyes widening into saucers as he choked back his tears. “Oh no! This isn’t a good Christmas at all, Brain! Poit!”

Brain nodded, although he wasn’t fond of seeing Pinky cry, much less due to a lie. “Exactly, my friend. And that is why I hate Christmas.”

He took Pinky’s hand and led him back towards their metal cage, placing his hands together. “I have a new plan, Pinky, and it has nothing to do with Christmas.”

Pinky half-ignored what Brain said, peeking up at the mistletoe he’d just hung at the cage’s entrance, sad for both Chris Pratt’s career-ending injury and for the fact that Brain never thought to look up once and notice the mistletoe.

“I am going to build a train with unlimited power and the ability to cross the entire world in a span of seconds on a single railway connecting all of Earth,” Brain began, pointing at a blueprint that consisted of what he described, drawn crudely with misshapen circles and stick figures.

“I will enact a frigid apocalypse upon this world, creating a new snowball Earth, and every human being will therefore be forced to live in my train and do my bidding as their new leader,” He finished with much bravado, confident in his planning skills and so sure that he wouldn’t fail.

“Oh,” Pinky drew out his “oh,” only understanding half of what Brain explained, “That’s a brilliant idea, Brain--” He clapped, stopping when he finally understood the second half of what Brain explained, “--But, wait, no! How is a little mouse like you going to cause the apocalypse? And how will every person in the world fit inside your train?”

“The train will be massive,” Brain walked around Pinky, missing the mistletoe yet again. “Certainly more massive than your intelligence quota, Pinky. And not to worry about the apocalypse prospect. You see, all I have to do is procure the world’s largest snow machine.”

At last, to Pinky’s delight, Brain caught wind of the sprig of green above the cage door. “What in the name of my world is that?”

“A mistletoe!” Had this been a cartoon, Pinky’s eyes would have transformed into heart-shaped red pupils, “Don’t you know what that means, Brain? Narf!”

Brain rolled his eyes for a second time, and motioned Pinky to come over to the computer.

He turned the computer switch on, and started, “As you know--” 

He glanced at Pinky, who was trying to see the back of his head with his eyes only, and corrected himself, “--Or as you  _ don’t _ know, the added cost of both building the train and the snow machine would prove...precipitous.”

Pinky’s eyes repositioned themselves to look at Brain, and he giggled, “Oh, zort! Remember when you thought you could rule the world by flooding the earth and therefore everybody had to live underwater with you as their ruler?”

“Pinky,” Brain sighed, trying his best to conceal the fact he was thoroughly embarrassed that Pinky remembered the occasion at all. “Come here.”

As soon as Pinky was within grabbing distance, Brain yanked his nose down far enough where their eyes ended up mere centimeters apart. “What is with your incessant need to remind me of my past failures?”

“Narf!” Pinky exclaimed, his cheeks tinted like his namesake, “Don’t you think this moment would be awfully romantic if there were a mistletoe above us?”

Brain’s face, too, flushed red for a microsecond before letting go of Pinky’s nose, and he shook his head with a grumble, “Concentrate, Pinky! I have already calculated the amount of money needed to buy the appropriate materials, coming at a grand total of---” He hit the  _ enter _ button and continued, “---69 gorillion dollars.”

Pinky’s nose made a  _ boing _ sound as it came free of Brain’s grasp, and as he rubbed his snout, he exclaimed, “Egad, Brain! Where are we going to get 69 gorillion dollars? Do we ask Santa?”

At the mention of Santa, Brain snapped and hit the F-key on the computer keyboard with his fist, causing the screen to bring up a deathly blue error message. “Santa isn’t real, Pinky,” he spat, before pausing in the moment, slowly bringing his hand to his chin. “Wait...Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Huh...” Pinky involuntarily licked his lips, and pondered, “I think so, Brain, but the mistletoe---”

“Enough with the mistletoe, Pinky!” Brain shook his head, pacing along the table with increasing impatience. “No, Pinky. I am going to dress up as Santa and declare an emergency that I need extra money from every child in order to make more presents, therefore accumulating my wealth!”

“I don’t know, Brain...” Pinky rubbed at the back of his head, “Isn’t cheating kids out of their money...not nice?”

Brain snapped again, causing Pinky to flinch. “You know what  _ isn’t  _ nice? The fact that every soul out in his world is celebrating Christmas without a worry that they’ll be some sorry laboratory experiment, and having to deal with corrupt governments instead of my presence as a faithful and benevolent ruler!”

Pinky looked about ready to cry, but as his emotions were as consistent as Taylor Swift’s relationship advice, he shook his head and switched to innocent glee as he asked, “Do you know what  _ is _ nice?”

“What?”

“Mistletoe!”

“Pinky, I said---” 

Before Brain had a moment to further chastise Pinky on his newfound obsession with the mistletoe, he felt his feet being swept up, his big old head a ripe tomato as Pinky carried him bridal style and brought him back to the cage door, right underneath the source of his obsession.

“Pink---” 

The singular syllable was interrupted as Brain felt a sensation he never thought he’d feel in his tiny lifespan, a moment that left his heart a starving cheetah chasing after a deliciously plump antelope. His face went from ripe tomato to the brightest star in the galaxy, burning like the inner core of our Earth. 

All and any notions of ruling the world were wiped entirely from his mind as the kiss, the agonizing and burning kiss, crashed into his memory palace with the force of two planets colliding. 

The second Pinky’s buck-toothed lips made contact with Brain’s mouth, thousands upon thousands of revelations came and went inside Brain’s mind, one of these a far-flung fantasy of the future in which Pinky and Brain presided over their world, hand in hand as lovers until the end of time. 

Any and all emotions that Brain had repressed inside his steely shell of trauma and fear of appearing helpless and weak all but spilled out of his eyes as boiling hot tears streamed down his chubby jowls.

The kiss was so intense that Brain’s tail managed to un-zigzag itself and the author ran out of appropriate metaphors to use.

And, when Pinky pulled away from the kiss of a century, all the revelations and emotions pulled away along with his lips, draining out of Brain like a vampire had drained all the blood from his victim’s body. Brain was left with a feeling of agonizing longing, as if to beg Pinky to kiss him again and to never let go...

  
  


Left paralyzed by this act, Brain dropped to the floor with an evidently louder  _ thud _ than Pinky had taken, lying limp and entirely paralyzed with shock.

“I’m sorry, Brain! You took too long to notice! Poit!” Pinky guffawed, only stopping when he saw that Brain didn’t respond. “Brain?”

“M-mah...” Another tear escaped through Brain’s bloodshot pink eyes. “Merry Christmas, Pinky.”


End file.
